


Nascence

by Dmnq8



Series: Hetalia [3]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-22
Updated: 2011-08-22
Packaged: 2017-11-08 22:35:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/448303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dmnq8/pseuds/Dmnq8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes two lives that seem wrong can unite to give birth to something right. -Pru/can. Human names. #4 in series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He didn't think there were many people who would believe that he spent most of his time reading. None who knew him, anyway. That was the catch, though, many of the people who thought they knew him, really didn't. He enjoyed the utter silence of his predominately empty palatial estate, and the feeling that he existed in a void. He could pretend that he alone existed in all the world. And if he was the only one in existence, it mattered not if he was fallen from greatness. One who was alone was great unto one's self. He had everything, if he was alone, and there was none to take anything from him. Content, he turned a page of his book, reading of days long past.

Knocking.

Gilbert looked up and over his reading glasses, toward his door. No one came to his part of the mansion. And if they did, it was only Dieter coming to roll a trolley containing food to it, something too heavy to be sent up through the dumb waiter. This was invariably done during daylight hours. No one ever disturbed him at night. Listening, he heard whispers.

_"Maybe he's sleeping?"_

_"My brother grew up on the battlefield. He rarely sleeps."_ More knocking, hard enough to rattle the solid wooden door.

_"Maybe this is the wrong door?"_

_"I admit, we did get lost three turns back, but I'm sure this is his room."_ Another round of knocking, then a voice raised in command. "Gilbert, open this door!"

_"How does someone get lost in their own home?"_

_"I thought we agreed not to mention that again? I told you I hardly come to this wing of the house…"_

_"I still think we should come back in the morning. These halls are creepy at night."_

It was almost funny. Feliciano's meek and soft voice, Ludwig's harsh and gruff one. He shut his book with a snap and dropped it on his chair as he stood. He crossed the room to yank open his door just as that fist was coming down again. "What."

They had disgustingly cheerful expressions on their faces. Well, Feliciano did. Ludwig just looked determined, as usual. The Italian, he could forgive. His brother, on the other hand…

"The world meeting is tomorrow," Ludwig intoned.

"So?"

"So I was given to understand that you planned to attend, but are now backing out?"

Gilbert felt a small smile settle around his mouth. He loved being the one to put that frown of displeasure on Ludwig's face, but he could see where this was going. Sliding his eyes to where Feliciano huddled in meek apology at his brother's side, he thought he understood what had happened.

Last week, ole West (a name he used when he was annoyed with his brother) had come back from wherever he'd run away to, and made up with Feliciano. No doubt, the Italian had informed Ludwig of the meeting and his own intent to attend if Ludwig was absent. Ludwig knew very well that wild horses couldn't drag him to one of those infernal meetings these days. But for the risk of Germany going unrepresented, he most certainly wouldn't have bothered.

To Ludwig, though, it was an opportunity to get him out of the house, and perhaps engaged in 'healthy pursuits' once again. His younger brother thought he drank too much, and spent too much time alone. Ludwig feared for his sanity, Gilbert knew. He couldn't say the fear was unfounded; the effort of trying to maintain an even keel in these new waters called modern times was becoming increasingly difficult…and each year he felt himself sinking just a little more.

Ludwig was aware of this too. His concern was touching, but aggravating. "What I do or don't do is my business," Gilbert said now. "Go fuck your Italian some more." He moved to shut his door in their faces.

Ludwig blocked with one hand, and shouldered his way into the room. Feliciano followed at his heels. "Gilbert, please," Ludwig said in a tone striving to be reasonable. "Going to one meeting won't hurt."

"That's easy for you to say." Gilbert ran his eyes up and down his brother's long body in derision. "You're not a pity magnet, now are you? You know your place in the world. You _have_ a place in the world. You belong. I don't. And now that you've gotten me to sound like a resentful, pouting puppy, get the fuck out." He planted a hand on Ludwig's chest and shoved. Ludwig, he was satisfied to see, went sprawling out into the hall. "And stay out." He slammed the door for good measure.

Feliciano was still standing in the room he saw when he'd turned from the door. Gilbert considered his serious expression. It never ceased to amaze him how seldom that young face wore any expression of gravity. The eyes were normally squinted in happiness, distress, or high excitement of some kind. When Feliciano was serious, though…ah, then his eyes became visible, and the sight of them now halted Gilbert's demand for him to leave as well. Such an unusual golden brown, those eyes.

"I think you should go to the meeting," Feliciano said quietly. "Nothing puts unwanted pity to rest like displaying how undeserving you are of the pity to begin with. Go. Show everyone how vitally strong you still are. I'll stand by you, if you wish. And that's not pity," he said quickly. "It's friendship. Solidarity. Please, Gilbert?"

How could he possibly resist those large golden eyes? Especially when they were growing larger by the second? The meek attitude had his loins stirring; it had been too long since he'd had a decent hunt. Feliciano would make for delectable prey, he was sure. He smirked. "Fine. Just so you know, though, if you come in here begging and pleading like that again, I'll be only too happy to repay West for using you as his plan B. He won't like me sampling what's his, trust me." At the alarmed look in Feliciano's eyes, Gilbert's smile widened. "What, didn't think I recognized the strategy? Taught that jackass everything he knows."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," Feliciano stammered awkwardly. His eyes were slits again in his discomfort at being found out. He tried to walk past Gilbert quickly in an effort to leave. Gilbert stopped him with a hand on his arm. Feliciano quailed visibly as the red-eyed man leaned close to his face.

"A taste of me and you'll forget all about West," Gilbert promised breathily. He let his eyes drop to the tremulous mouth thoughtfully. He quite liked the younger man's fright. It was exciting to him. "I don't like being manipulated. Understood?"

Feliciano nodded frantically, close to whimpering. He wrenched his arm away, practically ran for the door, and hastily threw it open. Ludwig was stationed outside, waiting alertly, Gilbert was unsurprised to see. Feliciano ran into his arms and allowed himself to be soothed.

Gilbert caught his brother's eye. "Anything else, asshole?"

Ludwig shook his head, not the slightest bit abashed at being caught utilizing such underhanded tactics. "Be ready at five." He pulled a shivering Feliciano down the hall with him and out of sight.  
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Five of the clock the following morning saw the Adler-Trumpf Ludwig owned packed with Ludwig himself, Feliciano, Kiku, Antonio, and Gilbert. It moved down the long drive of the Beilschmidt property in stately fashion, and exited the estate grounds.

He slept during most of the 15-hour drive. He was roughly elbowed awake by Antonio as that man climbed over him and out of the back seat. He shoved his long-time friend back reflexively, and felt that Antonio's inelegant sprawl into a rain puddle was an excellent way to greet the coming nightmare of this meeting. He made it a point to trod on him on his way out of the vehicle himself, and ignored the furious flurry of roared Spanish as he calmly straightened his collar. He had a vague notion that Antonio had been in a bad mood ever since some encounter he'd had with Lovino the previous week. He cared not at all, but if the Spaniard wanted to make an issue of things, Gilbert would be more than willing to oblige him. He was spoiling for a fight.

Apparently Antonio knew this. He shut his mouth, and stormed past Gilbert with a venomous glance.

Kiku and Feliciano kept far away from Gilbert as he retrieved his valise from the trunk. Ludwig merely set his mouth in a line, probably expecting to be embarrassed and ashamed of his brother, as he usually was whenever they were together in public. Served the bastard right. Gilbert had said he didn't want to come. He was here, so now they could all damn well deal with any behavior he chose to exhibit.

-oOo-

Following the uniformed serving woman to their quarters, though, he had to re-think his attitude. It was easy to fall into the habit of childish and brash behavior he typically displayed when around the other representatives; it hid the deep wound of his own current land-less status. But it wasn't who he was, not anymore. He ran his eyes over the tall windows, and endless halls of yet another representative's castle and felt a sudden, bone-deep weariness for his life.

-oOo-

Ludwig and Feliciano were given a room. He, Kiku, and Antonio were given another. Antonio left immediately. Kiku retired to the bed and proceeded to sleep. Gilbert snorted softly at seeing this, but thought that in the end, having a roommate who turned in early would work out fine. He tended to stay up most nights anyway, and if there was no one to bug him, the annoyance of sharing a room should prove to be minimal. Antonio, he wasn't worried about. That man would likely spend most of his time outside the room, and only return to it to change. Born lecher, Antonio was. He just wasn't as obvious about it as Francis.

He stood by the window, (honestly, which nation was hosting the meeting this time? Hell, where were they? What was this meeting even _about_?) and stared out at where it was raining yet again. There weren't many lamps on the castle grounds; all he was able to really see was his reflection in the dark window, back dropped by the rain on the glass. He studied his eyes, dark in this lighting, and the way the rain made it seem as if he was crying. He stared at himself for a long time, oddly comfortable with the false reflection…possibly because it didn't feel false.  
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The following day was excruciating.

Unable to sleep or read, he'd sat and stared at the rain until his brother's knock on the door had roused him. He'd looked around to find Ludwig poking his head around the door. "Meeting begins at nine." He'd retreated and shut the door quietly. Kiku was already up and dressed, and now sat reading. Antonio could be heard in the bath.

At ten to nine, Ludwig came and collected them. He led their little procession down the long hall. Feliciano walked beside Ludwig and to his right, while he himself walked at his brother's left. Kiku and Antonio brought up the rear. Ludwig almost marched, his right arm coming up whenever his left heel hit the floor. They all presented quite a picture of strength. Their footfalls were the muted sound of power on the deep red runner carpet that ran the length of the hall. The large windows that lined the wall to their left cast bright light on them, further enhancing the aura of influence they gave off. Glancing at Ludwig from the corner of his eye, Gilbert was hit with pride and a rare feeling of love. It had the effect of briefly swallowing his dread at the coming meeting; he almost felt as if his life after his fall was a nightmare that he'd woken from, and now everything was returned to the way it should be.

-oOo-

Upon entering the conference room, the babbling conversation died down a bit as their party was taken in. Smiles were cast their way. Nods were sent toward Ludwig, Feliciano, Antonio. Some bowed to Kiku. Gilbert was studied fleetingly, before eyes slid away from him in dismissal or hastily concealed pity.

Francis got up and came to him, greeted him with kisses to both cheeks, as Gilbert took in the fact that no extra seat had been placed at the long conference table. Nor were there any available chairs elsewhere in the room. He saw Ludwig sitting down, bending his head to someone who'd asked him a question.

Throwing on his trademark grin came as easily as it ever did, even if it didn't quite fit anymore. "Don't act so surprised to see me," he replied to Francis's question. "You babies still need to be schooled once in awhile."

"Indeed," Francis tittered. "Still, I'd have thought-"

Gilbert tuned out what was said, already looking for an escape. People were starting to stare at him the longer he stood so conspicuously. The eyes were sad or contemptuous or indifferent. Why had he come here? He'd _known_ it would be like this.

Francis tried to pull him toward the table, while signaling for a servant to bring a chair. Ludwig looked up, saw him, and beckoned him. Gilbert declined, but Ludwig frowned and got up. He took the chair the servant had at last arrived with and forced it between his own and Feliciano's, causing representatives to either side of them to make room. He gestured forcibly for Gilbert to sit, while Feliciano smiled in encouragement.

Conversation stopped altogether. Alfred let out a loud laugh, and started to ask what was the meaning of this, but Ludwig shot him an icy glance that shut the American up. The glance was shared around the table, until each pair of eyes found something else to occupy them. Ludwig grunted in satisfaction.

Gilbert sat. He stared at a spot somewhere on the far wall, trying not to feel too touched by his brother's defense of him, or by the light hand Feliciano briefly rested on his arm. The very worst part of his fall was how he was going soft. Words couldn't express how _abhorrent_ his life had become.  
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The meeting was called to order.

He was duly ignored throughout, which suited him. Heinous as it was, he preferred it to the condescending smugness he received whenever people addressed him these days. He figured he'd give it an hour, before quietly excusing himself. In the meantime, he dropped his eyes to the representatives around the table and indulged himself in a private round of active, hatred-tinged envy for the status they enjoyed. They were here by right, not invited to tag along. Alfred was particularly loathsome. Gilbert sneered at the loud bastard long and hard while the fool went on and on about whatever the topic of the meeting was.

By chance, his eyes fell on someone at Alfred's side who also sat in silence amidst the many voices clamoring to be heard. Having seen him now, he was hard to miss. He was the only one, besides himself, not offering an opinion. The person sat perfectly still, hands in his lap. He didn't appear to be following the meeting, which was also interesting. Who was he? His placement suggested that he was an American ally or…wait. Didn't Alfred have a brother? Gilbert's eyes narrowed the faintest bit as he combed through information in his memory. Yes. Canada was closely aligned to America. If this brother represented that nation, that would make the silent man quite powerful.

Gilbert let his gaze take in as much as possible. This wasn't much, considering that the man was sitting. He tried to attach a name to the plain features and found that he couldn't. He settled for watching closely instead.

The features were as generic as Alfred's, but more…something. Gilbert searched for a word and couldn't come up with one. How the Canadian representative's looks were more, he didn't know, just that they were more than Alfred's. The neat attire, composed expression, and motionlessness were at odds with what little Gilbert knew. In his experience, those who were strong made sure to let others know it. They didn't sit meekly while being ignored.

That was puzzling. He slid his eyes around the table, but saw no one at all who appeared to realize anyone was sitting next to Alfred. Not even the ones close to Alfred paid any mind to the slight blond man next to the blustering American. What was more, the man seemed to take this as his due. Gilbert stared at him, his interest piqued.  
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Matthew took in what was said around him without necessarily paying attention. Enough to keep abreast of current events. He filed away issues brought up and resolved, as well as ones that seemed to circle without finding an amicable agreement. He kept his thoughts to himself. He was never heard, never acknowledged, and so was content to sit through these obligatory summits.

Sometime after the meeting had begun, he felt an odd sensation. He looked up and around the table discreetly, wondering if someone had made a threat. Such a thing wasn't unheard of; tempers were on short leashes during these gatherings, and often one hothead or another would issue a threat that invariably brought the simmering tempers to a boil. He hadn't heard anything that could be termed a threat, but-

His eyes skipped over the guy before coming back to him immediately. With a thrill of surprise he realized that the man was looking at him. _Directly_ at him. On purpose. He realized that the strange feeling stemmed from this stare, and stared back in turn.

It was the one who'd come in with Ludwig's group. Matthew had a rather detailed way of filing information away, and so came up with a name after a few seconds of thought. Gilbert, representative of the fallen nation of Prussia, and Ludwig's brother. Matthew could not recall ever seeing him in person, but his blue uniform was recognizable from history lessons. He tilted his head quizzically, thinking the man wanted to tell him something. Gilbert was at least seven or eight seats down the table and on the opposite side, too far for speech, but perhaps…?

They shared the eye contact for nearly a full minute. At last, Gilbert looked away. Matthew deflated somewhat, before realizing that his pulse was still slightly elevated from the brief exchange. He slowly returned his eyes to the glass of water that sat in front of him, wondering what Gilbert had seen in him to warrant the stare. No one ever noticed him, and on the rare occasions that anyone did, it was a quick double-take; surprise at his presence, before he was quickly forgotten again. That Gilbert had noticed him at all was unnerving, not only thrilling, but then to stare for so long…

He snuck another quick peek in Gilbert's direction and found the man looking at him again. Gilbert dropped his eyes once more, peeked, then leaned over to Ludwig and murmured something in his ear. A moment later, Gilbert stood, cast another seemingly casual glance Matthew's way, and strolled from the room. Matthew's eyes followed him out.  
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The meeting broke for lunch shortly after one. A buffet was set up in the room next to the conference room, but Matthew felt like he needed some air. Once outside, a servant handed him a glass of some kind of fruit cordial typically served after meals. He took it, but didn't drink. His eyes were caught by the tall hedge maze that dominated the southern half of the estate. He made his way toward it, enjoying the brisk wind. He hoped that any further rain held off until he'd had a chance to explore the maze.

-oOo-

He enjoyed the greenery. Every other corner in the maze was adorned by an enormous topiary of some animal indigenous to the region. He took his time, ambling through the tall growth, bending to smell flowers that grew here and there on the hedge walls. While he walked, his thoughts returned repeatedly to Gilbert, if that was his name, and the way he'd stared at him.

Maybe his curiosity was indecent, but he dearly wanted to know what had made him stand out to Gilbert when to everyone else he was all but invisible. He wasn't shy. He would ask, if the opportunity presented itself. For now…

His train of thought was completely derailed when he turned a corner and found Gilbert himself leaning against a hedge wall.

-oOo-

Escape from the conference room hadn't been enough. He'd been lured outside, and drawn to the hedge maze. Almost at once, the pressure he'd felt in the castle rolled off his shoulders. He'd finally been able to draw a deep breath, before striding off in search of solitude. The maze looked promising. He just wanted to be alone, completely alone, without the possibility of interruption. It had rained again while the meeting was in session, so it was unlikely that anyone but him would want to go tramping through the wet maze.

Once inside, he employed the simple means of following one wall and a series of calculated turns to find himself at its center. He went through the entire thing a couple of times, locating the exit in short order, before settling down to wander through the maze aimlessly. Thunder boomed distantly, and the day's clouds darkened, but no more rain fell. After awhile, he chose a section of wall and leaned back against it. He watched the slowly roiling clouds being churned by the wind and breathed deeply.

He didn't hear anything, so much as pick up on the feel of being watched. Without turning his head he recognized, from the periphery of his vision, the man he'd been staring at earlier. He kept his eyes skyward, waiting to see if the man would leave. When he didn't, he slowly turned his head to give him an intimidating look; he was intent on retrieving his pleasant solitude.

Up close, the eyes were arresting. A hazy violet. A color that misled one into thinking the man who owned them was dull, but their intensity quickly disabused one of that notion. It wasn't an overt intensity either, just a directness, a refusal to look away, that hinted at steel in the spine. Quiet this man might be, but it would be wrong to underestimate him, Gilbert suspected. He sensed that many people made this mistake. The desire to intimidate was replaced by interest. He turned toward the man completely, so that his shoulder now leaned on the prickly hedge wall, instead of his back. He returned the gaze frankly, and was slightly awed to discover that the generic looks sparked a tiny attraction. Not really the looks, but the manner, the sense of hidden strength. _And_ the looks. He could gaze into those eyes forever.

The silence lengthened and Gilbert raised a sardonic brow, challenging the man to speak first.

-oOo-

Matthew held a brief argument with himself upon discovering Gilbert. Go or stay? Frozen with indecision, he'd remained where he was until Gilbert turned to look at him.

The face was that of an older gentlemen, somewhat roughly hewn, but classically handsome. The faint lines around the mouth and running down from either side of the nose did nothing to diminish that. If anything, it emphasized the man's handsomeness. The age, coupled with the youthfully muscled body and easy movements, spoke of potent virility.

Caught staring, Matthew took a step closer when Gilbert turned toward him, offering a smile. He gestured with the forgotten glass of cordial in his hand. "I apologize for intruding. I…"

A small smile joined the lifted brow. "Yes? You what?"

Matthew gave a low chuckle, embarrassed at the bold gaze, and inwardly elated. The incident at the conference table had been no fluke, then. This person really saw him as worthy of attention. He had to duck his head. "I'm sorry. You probably want to be alone." He turned to leave.

"I could say the same for you," Gilbert said when the younger man had walked several steps. He folded his arms when the violet eyes found his again. "One doesn't come into this maze seeking companionship."

Matthew hesitated. "I didn't mean to intrude-"

"But you have." Gilbert took a perverse pleasure in flustering the man. As he straightened from the wall and moved toward him, he found that the spark had grown. It was too soon yet to tell if this man could be prey. Possibly. If he was willing, and not too timid. Timid was good, but excessive reticence had never been a turn-on for him. Hence the pull he felt toward this man…that sense of deep steel in the guy was hard to shake, despite his stammering and blushes. "Now that you're here you might as well stay," he said as he reached him. His eyes fell on the glass the guy held absently. Those violet orbs gazed up at him behind thin spectacles. "You going to drink that?"

Matthew jumped slightly at feeling the glass taken from him. It was gulped in two swallows, and dropped. During all this he did not take his eyes off that square-jawed face.

He'd seen albinos before. Not many, but enough to know that they all had bright pink or red eyes that were the very color of blood, and that tended to jitter in the sockets. Gilbert's eyes were the deep red of rich wine, and did not jitter. Nor was his hair white, but a pale, silvery blond that looked iron gray in this dull light. He was only a few inches taller, but quite solidly built.

An imposing, impressive man, Matthew concluded. He wasn't sure why the relentless stare continued to unnerve him. He wet his lips. "Are you called Gilbert?" he asked. He was proud of his steady voice.

Gilbert inclined his head. "And you are?"

"Matthew Williams. At your service." He held up his hand.

"Matthew." Gilbert closed his hand around the proffered one and squeezed gently. He did not let go immediately. "I'm flattered you know my name. Not many do anymore."

"Not many people consider me noticeable," Matthew replied. "I guess I understand your surprise."

Gilbert released the hand and stepped back. "Care for a walk?"

Putting his tingling hand behind him, Matthew adjusted his glasses. "Yes, thank you."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Two things: 1) the saying _Still waters run deep_ refers to quiet people often being capable of great acts of violence. This will be explored in fic #8, I believe. 2) the 'something stupid' Gilbert refers to when talking about Ludwig is in reference to fic #5 'When In Greece'.  
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

# Chapter 2

For a time, they walked in silence. It was neither awkward, nor companionable. It was simply a mutual acceptance of the novelty of each other's presence. Neither man was in the habit of simply existing with another, for no definite reason. Gilbert had romped around with Francis and Antonio, for the sheer sake of raising nine kinds of hell and whoring. Matthew was sought only when mistaken for his brother, or expected to rectify some mess his brother had created. As a result, this unprecedented company with each other had both men consciously taking the time to discover whether or not the experience was enjoyable.

-oOo-

Gilbert was inclined to conclude that yes, he did like the feeling of Matthew's presence. His interest didn't wane in the silence, nor did he feel bored as he so often did around quiet people. Antonio and Francis were the only ones he could tolerate for anything length of time, but then they had appetites that matched his own. That had been the way of things for a long time, until Feliciano had come along with his bubbly attitude. Dead hilarious, that Italian was sometimes. But to feel so at ease with someone he didn't know, without words, was not like Gilbert. He was a verbal person, when around others. He liked to dominate any and all encounters…but no, that had been the old him. Gilbert had to admit that the new him didn't interact with people outside of the estate often. Hands in his pockets, he wondered where this walk would lead.

-oOo-

Matthew thought the experience more than enjoyable; it was quite interesting. As they walked, he recalled all the time he'd spent with Francis. It hadn't meant anything to him at the time, but there had been mention made of one Gilbert Beilschmidt, and certain antics that Francis, Gilbert, and Antonio Carriedo had gotten up to. This had to be the same Gilbert. Matthew tried to recall specifics of what was said, but those details were lost, if he'd ever had them.

He couldn't quite quell the wayward little leaps his heart did in his chest. Little irregularities in its normally undisturbed beat that caused it to thud and stutter. He cleared his throat lightly, trying to calm down. They were only walking, after all.

-oOo-

They reached the center of the maze, where a shallow pond sat in an engraved, rectangle stone basin. The basin was recessed into the ground, no more than fifty feet in length, if that. A fountain rose from the center of this pond, whose water tinkled over scalloped stone tiers to fall back into the pond. Stone benches with griffins as their base were ranged around the center of the maze, on either side of the pond. Gilbert went to the far side of one bench and sat. The space he left beside him indicated that Matthew was welcome to sit, which he did.

"I've never seen you at a meeting before," Matthew ventured after some minutes of staring at the water.

"There's really no reason for me to attend one, is there?" Gilbert couldn't quite keep the bitterness out of his voice. He saw that Matthew winced in awareness of his error in choosing that particular topic. His jaw clenched at being so unintentionally acerbic, but he didn't apologize.

"No, I don't suppose there is." He didn't ask what Gilbert was doing at this meeting. He cast about for some topic that wouldn't offend, and came up empty. He knew nothing about Gilbert that could be used as a conversation piece, and didn't want to risk putting his foot in his mouth again. He clasped his hands between his prim knees, growing uncomfortable.

"Do you and your brother get along?" Gilbert asked at length. "I never seem to hear your name come up whenever the bastard is mentioned."

Matthew turned his head to find Gilbert staring at him again, and gave an enigmatic smile. "It's refreshing to hear someone call him a bastard openly."

"Does that mean you _don't_ get along, then?" Gilbert asked with interest; Matthew's smile was almost…chilling.

Adjusting himself to this blunt manner of speaking, Matthew considered the question while looking at the pond once more. "My brother and I aren't at war with each other. I guess that's all that can be said for our…relationship."

Gilbert had to sit up and lean his forearms on his knees at the way Matthew's jaw flexed, and his glasses glinted. Definite steel in the spine. Gilbert caught the barest hint of hostility and raging resentment before these things were tucked away and neatly smoothed over with the pleasant expression Matthew seemed to wear constantly. _Still waters run deep with this one. Very deep indeed_. The spark of interest gave way to a thread of excitement, one that ran up the length of his spine deliciously. It had been a long while since he'd been in the presence of anyone truly dangerous.

"What of your relationship with _your_ brother?" Matthew kept his eyes on the pond, leading Gilbert to believe that thoughts of Alfred hadn't quite left yet.

"Me and West?" Gilbert said. He scratched his jaw, now looking at the pond as well. "Eh, what can I say?"

In truth he ended up saying a lot. More than he'd meant to. More than he'd realized he had in him to say on the subject of Ludwig the Perfect.

Matthew listened to the tale of grudging respect and pride Gilbert had for, and in, his brother, and allowed the rough voice to further calm him. It was very different from how he and Alfred interacted. Night and day. Listening closely, he was able to learn quite a bit about Gilbert himself, things he didn't think the man was aware of divulging. He found himself turning on the bench and leaning forward a bit, completely enraptured and distracted from his previous thoughts of Alfred.

"He's a shit sometimes, Ludwig." Gilbert said at one point. "He likes to issue rules and orders for everyone, likes his life to fall within his own self-imposed little rules, but doesn't like having rules foisted on him in turn."

"You don't say?"

"Take this relationship he's in with Feliciano. He knows he can't live without the man, but doesn't want to be forced to settle down. Outwardly he accepts it, but inwardly…Germans court for a long time before making the final decision to settle down. Years. Italians must be different, though. Feliciano forced Ludwig's hand, and my brother went along with it. So far, any resentment Ludwig may or may not have hasn't reared its head, but give it time. I know Ludwig. He loves Feliciano, but one should never rush a German when it comes to love."

"What do you think will happen?"

Gilbert shrugged one shoulder. "He might do something stupid."

"I have the impression he does not do stupid things often."

"You'd be right. Ludwig sets up his life so that he doesn't make mistakes, but push anyone far enough, and shit happens. Oh, I could tell you some stories, ways I've provoked that asshole to madness," Gilbert chuckled. "One time…"

Through tales of brotherly exploits, Gilbert revealed a loyal and intelligent personality, with liberal splashes of wicked mischievousness thrown in. Adding this to what he'd gleaned from Francis, and Matthew was able to visualize a very complex man in Gilbert, a veritable world of fascinating contrasts, extremes, and subtleties that were just waiting to be explored.

He was enthralled.

Gilbert found, to his pleasure, that Matthew asked intelligent questions once it was his turn to speak. Though quiet and composed, he was not tedious in the slightest. He answered Gilbert's own questions, posed more of his own, and before they knew it, a lively conversation was flowing back and forth between them as if they'd known each other for years.

And yet the novelty of each other's company didn't wear off. It remained fresh, and for that both men were keenly grateful.

"I'm not sure why I came to this meeting," Gilbert found himself saying as the afternoon descended toward evening. "Just another one of those all-important, highly ineffectual, blatant excuses for chest-beating that I have no place in anymore. Ludwig was off somewhere, so I agreed to come in his stead. Then he brought his yellow ass back, dealt with his man issues, and decided he was going to come after all. I backed out. He comes along and asks me to accompany him anyway, thinks I'm too depressed and directionless…" he stopped there, realizing he'd said more than he'd meant to. He looked over at Matthew, and did not find an expression of pity or sympathy on the open features.

"You don't have to say more," Matthew offered in his mellow voice.

Gilbert studied the expression of attentive interest on Matthew's face. He swallowed, nodded, looked away. He hadn't really spoken of it with anyone. Maybe he should. He'd already opened the door, might as well push on through.

When he decided to continue, it was in a tone so low that Matthew had to lean very close to hear him. "I guess I _am_ directionless. Depression _has_ been my food and drink of late. I don't think-" he paused, as a breeze rippled the glass-like surface of the pond, as if the breeze had also disordered his thoughts. He stared, as the ripples grew fainter, diminishing until the pond was still once more.

Matthew didn't move, hardly dared to breathe.

"I don't think," Gilbert went on in an eerie whisper, "that people are meant to live without purpose. I don't think anyone who's never been without purpose understands how living without it can kill the soul. To _be_ something…and then be nothing, while existing in the same world you've always lived in… It's worse than dying." He turned his head slowly, his eyes finding the violet ones in the gathering dark. "It's worse than anything else in the world."

A silence fell between them, but they did not look away from each other. Gilbert searched the wide eyes with a frown between his own, searched as if Matthew had something he needed. He stared hard, hoping to find it, desperate to find it. And then he did, and he thought, _I'm attracted to him_. Intrigued, he continued to hold the other man's stare, waiting to see if Matthew would look away.

Matthew didn't. Throughout their conversation he'd been aware of a budding attraction on his part, one that forced him to duck his head or drop his eyes whenever Gilbert looked at him for too long; he didn't know if his attraction was visible to the older man, and had no way of knowing how knowledge of it would be received. Same sex love was better tolerated in the quiet circles of Canada than in many other places, but it was not something one flaunted, ever. Not in this day and age. At any rate, he'd never been attracted to anyone this strongly, and he wasn't sure what to make of it.

But then Gilbert turned to look at him yet again, and this time didn't turn away. He stared and stared, and Matthew returned the stare, letting his attraction show, hoping it wouldn't be ridiculed or sneered upon. He'd hoped also, by returning the searching gaze, to show Gilbert his trustworthiness. Perhaps Gilbert saw. The stare changed, became less searching, and more assured. Confident. Bold. Unflinching.

The red eyes dropped to his mouth, and Matthew felt as if his lips were branded. He had to swallow several times, and resist the urge to lick his lips nervously.

Gilbert let his mind dwell on the moistness of Matthew's pale lips, before slowly raising his eyes again. Caught staring at Matthew's mouth, he saw that Matthew himself did not seem to mind this. If the way his cheeks colored faintly in the setting sun was any indication, the stare had been welcome. Matthew was certainly doing a fair amount of his own staring.

"If you're not too fussed with staying for the rest of the meeting," Gilbert said with uncharacteristic hesitation, "I have an estate less than a day's drive from here…and my brother's car."

It was an admission of things men typically did not mention, Matthew knew. Electrified to a point of near incoherence, Matthew nonetheless was not in the habit of behaving irrationally or recklessly. That was Alfred's way. "May I consider the offer?" he asked with the faintest stutter. "It's a bit sudden."

Gilbert smiled thinly, then dipped his head once. "Of course." He knew a rejection when he heard one.

Matthew got up then and bid him good night.

-oOo-

Gilbert remained in the maze long after the other man had gone. A stiff wind came and blew the shrubbery around him so that it whistled and creaked, but he found himself feeling utterly still inside. Yes, Matthew had turned his offer down, but today had still been one of surpassing enjoyment for Gilbert. Outside of Feliciano, he couldn't remember the last time he'd enjoyed someone's conversation. And the Italian was quirky at best. Matthew, on the other hand, had a sharp and expansive mind, one that held its own with Gilbert's easily. He let himself relive some of the choice parts of their conversation and found himself chortling softly.

Maybe he'd enjoy this meeting after all. Seemed Matthew wouldn't be missed. All they needed to do was find another secluded corner or two, or come to this very same maze again,and who knew. Conversation could lead to other things.  
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Matthew didn't sleep well that night. He didn't sleep at all, in fact, and soon gave up trying. He turned onto his back and listened to the rain that was falling yet again.

Ordinarily, most things did not trouble him overmuch. He was a sensible person who never let things build up within himself to the point where they became a problem. Most things, anyway. He had an easygoing and tolerant way of interacting with people; he rarely, if ever, became agitated or fixated on people and the things they said or did. Why, then, couldn't he get Gilbert and their conversation off his mind? A perfectly normal conversation, and yet he'd sensed all throughout it that Gilbert had not spoken that way with many other people, if any. There had been a clear sense of secrets shared and camaraderie.

As he stared up at the ceiling, Matthew realized that his attraction had the power to become an obsession.

_Or love._

He shied away from that thought. It was impractical. He'd just met Gilbert. An afternoon of pleasant conversation didn't mean love. Neither did the stiffness in his groin.  
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Around dawn Gilbert found his way to his room and discovered Ludwig inside it, having an argument with Antonio and Kiku. A closer look revealed Ludwig to actually be ranting to the room at large, and Antonio and Kiku merely watching. Kiku was sipping tea. Antonio was sitting in an armchair and looked bored.

Ludwig rounded on his brother the moment Gilbert stepped into the room. " _Du Hurensohn_ ," Ludwig spat. "Where the devil have you been?"

Gilbert only loosened his collar and undid the first few buttons on his shirt. Ludwig would carry on his ranting whether or not he answered. Sure enough…

"This meeting is pointless! Minor issues that mean nothing to anyone are resolved with great ceremony and pomp, while the serious problems circle the table without a resolution. And that _arschloch_ Alfred thinks to dominate everything. Always an answer to every nation's problems but his own. _Schwanzlutscher!_ "

Well aware of how much Ludwig detested inefficiency, Gilbert calmly faced him while pouring himself some of the brandy that sat on the coffee table. "And why, you Nazi, would you have needed me present for such high excitement?"

"Nazi-!" Ludwig reddened dangerously, advancing toward his brother with fists balled.

"Yes, Nazi, control-freak, whatever you want to call your particular brand of insanity. It sounds like I was right to step out of the meeting early."

"You-"

Gilbert obligingly set his glass aside. "You want to fight? Come. Good big brother that I am, I will oblige you."

It didn't even tax him. His blood was still high from his afternoon with Matthew, and a good fight was almost as good as a hunt.

Antonio, who had his legs stretched out, lifted them out of the way as the brothers rolled energetically on the floor. He sipped his own brandy idly, comparing the color to one Italian bastard's eyes.

Ludwig stood after he'd been thrown to the floor a third time and peevishly straightened his shirt. "A draw," he sniffed, eyes averted.

"I beat you," Gilbert smiled. He picked up his unfinished glass of brandy. "And you know it. At least be man enough to admit it."

Ludwig glared around the room, then stormed out. "Meeting begins at nine again. Be ready."

Gilbert stared thoughtfully at the slammed door. "He's going to do something stupid sooner than I thought, I can tell."

Neither Kiku nor Antonio responded.  
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Sometime around midmorning, while the meeting was well under way, it was discovered that Gilbert wasn't the only one absent from it. He wondered who could be knocking on his door when he went to open it and was surprised to meet a pair of shining violet eyes.

"If the offer is still on the table," Matthew said with a nervous smile. "I'd very much like to take you up on it."


	3. Chapter 3

Ludwig obeyed traffic regulations whenever he drove. Gilbert didn't. The drive to the meeting had taken 15 hours. _He_ pulled up to the Beilschmidt Estate ten hours after speeding away from the meeting, with his things and Matthew's thrown haphazardly into the back seat. Dieter rushed out to meet them, and dipped his chin deferentially when introduced to Matthew.

"It is eight on the dot, _Herr_ Beilschmidt," Dieter proclaimed formally. "Dinner is served. _Herr_ Williams will be joining you, of course?"

In answer, Gilbert tossed him Matthew's valise, which the older man fumbled, but managed to hang on to. " _Herr_ Williams will be staying the night at the very least, in my wing of the house. Have _Frau_ Alke send up spiced wine, along with dinner." He threw his own valise to Dieter as well. He led Matthew up the steps and into the foyer.

Matthew gave a cursory glance to his surroundings as he followed Gilbert upstairs and through carpeted halls, but his attention was primarily on his host. No sooner had Gilbert gotten behind the wheel of his brother's car than a new disposition seemed to burst from him. Gilbert had laughed, and joked, and spoken with great animation. Matthew could find very little trace, if any, of the man who'd admitted to him in a whisper how terrifying he found his current life to be. "You seem different today," he'd said to Gilbert during the drive.

Gilbert had taken his eyes off the road for several heady seconds to give him a long, pointed look. "Must be the company." He'd then given a slow smile of appreciation while raking him from head to toe.

Matthew had needed to look away lest his obvious pleasure seem vulgar.

The mood had remained throughout the drive through the countryside. Even now, being led to several rooms in the eastern wing of the large estate, Matthew listened with bemusement to how Gilbert was ready to offer him whichever room he chose.

"This room here hasn't been used in ages, but it has a fireplace, if you chill easily," Gilbert was saying. "The room down the hall has a small bathroom off the sitting area, and the room we just left-"

"I rather liked your room," Matthew interrupted quietly. "I wouldn't mind seeing it again." He faced the older man frankly.

Gilbert caught and held the look. The silent connotations pleased him enormously, if his grin was any indication. "My room it is then. Should I have Dieter put your things there as well?"

"I think that would be best, yes."

Dieter put Matthew's valise in the corner of Gilbert sitting room, before setting the small table that sat before the balcony doors. _Frau_ Alke bustled in with dinner and arranged the dishes on the table. She uncovered the main dish.

Gilbert was both pleased and surprised to see that they were having beef rouladen. "What's the occasion?" he asked, going to dip his finger in the gravy. "West would shit if he knew there'd been rouladen while he was away."

Dieter smiled from his place of attention by the door. " _Herr_ Ludwig called several hours ago. He mentioned that his car was missing and that you had been spotted leaving the meeting in it with a guest. He requested, on the off chance that you'd be coming here, that a suitable dinner be prepared. He said that he and the rest would catch the railroad home in some days' time."

Gilbert paused mid-suck on his index finger to look at Dieter. Just like West. Interfering bastard, but sometimes it was a good thing. In this case, his brother had seen him with someone for the first time in years and strove to facilitate a favorable outcome.

Sometimes he loved his brother too much to express.

However. "Did he seem pissed about the car?"

Dieter mentally shook his head at the anticipatory gleam in those red eyes. "I believe mention was made of removing your head from your shoulders and ripping the eyes and tongue out, once he returned and your guest had departed."

"Good ole West!" Gilbert laughed. "Always making promises he can't keep."  
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The door was shut quietly as _Frau_ Alke and her husband left. Matthew had understood just enough of the fluent German to be left smiling slightly at the relationship Gilbert seemed to enjoy with his brother.

Gilbert suddenly remembered manners he didn't actually have. Matthew seemed like the kind of person who felt comfortable with etiquette and other such related shit; he hastened to awkwardly pull out one of the chairs for the blond to sit in. Matthew laughed outright, a gentle sound, but sat amiably. Gilbert tried to shove the chair in, was unable to, and ended up lifting it with Matthew in it to set it closer to the table. "What?" he asked when he'd sat in his own chair.

"That gesture is commonly made to women."

"Oh." He reached for a pumpernickel roll, broke it, and swiped half of it in the rouladen gravy. He stuffed this into his mouth. "If you're offended…"

"Not at all." Matthew studied the potato dumplings and red cabbage accompanying the rolled beef. He speared a dumpling with his fork. "I rather thought you were inclined otherwise," he said diffidently. He was wary of speaking so directly, but felt it had to be said sooner or later.

"As Feliciano likes to put it, 'Sexuality is fluid.' Me, I say lust and love know no gender. Wine?"

Already blushing at the use of the word sexuality, Matthew nodded. He waited until Gilbert poured. "I agree with the concept, but have never felt inclined to any gender but my own."

Gilbert bobbed his head while chewing extravagantly. Matthew, invited by the interested red gaze, proceeded to open up about a number of things he normally kept private. Things that hadn't been discussed in the maze. The food was excellent, if a bit heavy, and the rich wine flowed freely. Gilbert, though an enthusiastic yet coarse host, nonetheless showed that his quiet side did not completely depart when he was excited. He showed himself capable of listening with unswerving attention for long periods of time. Matthew, given such an audience for the second day in a row, displayed quite a bit to say.

"It's as if he doesn't see what an ass he is," he said later with some heat. Gilbert handed him a huge slice of black forest cake. "He thinks he can dictate how every other nation behaves, govern their actions, and yet his own country is a mess. He sanctions actions from certain countries, while condemning others for doing the same things, and he's been doing it for years. He's a liar. He's corrupt, and power-hungry, and has no concept of discipline. Wasteful. Squandering men and resources recklessly. And his debt! But you don't want to hear about my brother all evening. He's not a pleasant topic for conversation." He concentrated on finishing his cake.

The violet eyes were troubled. A small frown worried the flesh between the fine brows. Seeing this, Gilbert was silent. Then he suddenly stood and held out his hand. "Come. The wind will invigorate you and blow your troubles away."

Matthew found the whimsical statement and gesture endearing from such a rough man. Placing his hand in the larger one, he let himself be led to the balcony.  
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It was an uncommon evening for both of them. The shared confidences, the hand-holding, the clear effort on Gilbert's part to put his best foot forward…all these things worked together to weave an atmosphere laden with promise around the two men.

Gilbert brought the spread from his bed to the balcony, along with pillows, and set these up for them to sit on. The wind was indeed sharp, but neither of them felt uncomfortable. Matthew did not comment on the meaning of the reddish gold spread and pillows, but sat gamely and continued speaking to Gilbert, or listened when the other had something to say.

Throughout dinner, there had been a few silences wherein their eyes had met and held before looking away. These glances had flavored the evening as much as the setting and conversation had, until each man had been quietly aware of a mutual attraction. This had not hindered them, but rather guided them through certain roles inadvertently set in place by the incident with the chair; Gilbert was pursuing him, and Matthew knew he was being pursued. And Gilbert _knew_ that Matthew knew.

Now, on the balcony, they reclined side by side, not touching, but divulging things long buried deep within themselves. The night was spent talking, occasionally laughing, and sharing similar stories of neglect and frustration. A more intense conversation than what had taken place in the maze the previous day. A fresh bottle of wine had been brought out with the blanket, and this flowed between them quite as easily as their mounting attraction and desire. The silences were more frequent, became longer, and the stares were enough to shorten their breath.

Eventually, they stretched out on the blanket. Conversation continued intermittently between them, though there were yawns now to show their fatigue. Matthew drifted off first, having been awake since the previous night, and Gilbert followed soon after.

-oOo-

The clouds that had been present all day released a small smattering of rain a few miles from the estate. They roiled and billowed, producing one of the thunderstorms that sometimes sprang up at this time of the year. There was no precipitation other than those few drops, but the sound was enormous. It shook the entire estate as it rumbled past, pushed by the strong winds blowing over that section of the countryside.

Matthew woke with a start, and bumped into Gilbert, who sat up more slowly. Extreme weather conditions did not bother the Prussian. He cocked an eye at the sky, sniffed the air, then dismissed it all to turn toward the man at his side.

"A storm?" Matthew queried. His hair blew about wildly. He drew a corner of the blanket over his legs.

"Nah, probably gone by now. We'll get some wind for a bit, then it'll be bright skies tomorrow, you wait and see."

Matthew looked at him, then looked down. Their arms were touching. Neither of them moved away immediately. When he raised his eyes to Gilbert's questioningly, it was to find the older man leaning toward him.

The kiss was brief, a simple touching of their mouths, but electrifying. Gilbert's firm lips pressed against Matthew's for several seconds before the latter pulled away with a soft gasp.

Gilbert grinned. "Are you afraid?" he asked in a smooth voice, one that was deepened by his excitement.

"N-no." Matthew cleared his throat. "No."

Gilbert studied the wide eyes a moment, then looked aside with a frown. "It's been awhile. I'm used to running with Fagcis and Ass-tonio… Francis and Antonio, sorry, and we always just went after whomever we wanted. Not to mention that Prussians weren't known for tender courtship rituals. You seemed agreeable to the idea…" He ran a hand through his hair in agitation.

Matthew, breathing still shot from the kiss, hastened to smooth things over. "I _am_ agreeable. It's just…it caught me by surprise, is all."

Gilbert cocked his head, a sudden smirk curving the corners of his mouth. "You'd prefer a warning next time?"

"I-"

"Prussia used to be at war so much that we fucked right there on the battlefield, did you know that?

Startled, Matthew shook his head. "No, I can't say that I did."

Gilbert's smile broadened. "Sometimes we spiced things up with a hunt, but yeah. Flowery words of love were never the strong point of my country. That's Francis's deal."

Matthew wondered how to respond. Had he not reacted as he had, he might now be enjoying another kiss. He seemed to have killed the mood with his naiveté, and regretted it bitterly. In an effort to steer things in the right direction again, he said, "Tell me about the hunting, if you don't mind."

It seemed Gilbert didn't. He reclined on an elbow and laced his fingers over his stomach. He stared through the wrought iron bars of the balcony to the darkened grounds of the estate below. "Back when I was at the height of my power, Prussians found lovers much the same way animals did; based on the need to fuck. They chose a partner they found appealing, and went after them. We were at war more often than not, so a lot of the time the fucking took place right there among the clashing swords, or firing guns and cannon. Tempers, desires, all emotions were high from battle, you know? It was a common thing, fucking during a skirmish. In times of peace, Prussians missed the thrill of the fight, and sometimes elected to hunt their desired mates in order to quicken the blood. Sometimes hunting took place on the battlefield too. Not a few of those conflicts were settled by an intrepid Prussian hunting the general of the opposing army. It was said, but never proven, that some of the wars we fought were deliberately thrown in our favor for the simple opportunity to be hunted by a Prussian."

Matthew studied the boldly masculine profile, captivated. He waited for more, but Gilbert only stared pensively at the night, perhaps thinking of his past. It was on the tip of Matthew's tongue to ask Gilbert for more details, when the older man surprised him.

Gilbert slowly turned his head and sent a penetrating glance his way. He said quietly, almost casually, "May I hunt you?"

Matthew blinked. There was a half smile of confusion and disbelief frozen on his features. The question, while related to the previous topic, nevertheless seemed to come from nowhere, and be connected to nothing. The red eyes were no less penetrating. They were steady, and very intent. Replaying the question, and more importantly, the tone of voice Gilbert had used, Matthew swallowed nervously. "I-I don't understand. Here? Now? You're offering to literally chase me?"

"It's a bit more than simply chasing," Gilbert clarified. "You must agree to do your best to evade me, just as I will hunt you with every intention of capturing you. It's not a game. By agreeing to be hunted, you also agree to submit once caught. Completely, without reservation whatsoever, you will submit to me when I catch you, and acknowledge that I _am_ your captor."

"What if you don't catch me? What if you give up from exhaustion, or-"

Gilbert made a small sound of dismissal with his tongue. "I repeat, this isn't a children's game of tag. The one hunting hunts until he catches his prey, or else drops dead trying. Simple as that."

Matthew stared. If that was the case, then the simple question of 'May I hunt you?' became not so simple. What Gilbert had really asked was, 'Will you give me power over you? Will you defer to me? Will you acknowledge me as your conqueror?' It dawned on Matthew that the hunts themselves had a foregone conclusion then, in which case if he answered yes to the question, it would be yielding in a way he never had before, with anyone.

No wonder conflicts had been settled after a hunt.

Seeing the hesitation, Gilbert asked again. "May I _hunt_ you, Matthew Williams?"

Matthew felt his pulse begin to throb. He suddenly felt overly warm despite the howling wind, as his blood raced through his veins. The question was a formality, he realized; he was already being hunted by that direct red gaze. Something primitive twisted to life inside him. An answering need to be pursued and caught. He wet his lips. "Yes."

Gilbert waited.

Realizing that the hunt was officially afoot, Matthew belatedly scrambled to his feet and ran inside. The sheer curtains at the balcony's French doors fluttered violently at his passage, then were still.

-oOo-

Gilbert chuckled soundlessly, senses fully awake and alive after decades of soul-numbing boredom and ennui. His depression hadn't asserted itself since laying eyes on Matthew across a long table. He didn't think it was likely to return as long as the man was around. He felt good. Better than good, he felt _vital_ once more.

He gave his prey five minutes. Then he got purposely to his feet. His smile died away as his baser nature took over.  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The halls and doors were like another maze to Matthew, who at first could not imagine running through someone's house at such an inappropriate hour. There were bound to be people sleeping, people who didn't want to be disturbed. But then he heard the sound of unhurried pursuit, and remembered Gilbert saying that the estate was empty but for themselves and the help. He broke into a jog.

The idea that the resolution of this hunt would be him submitting to Gilbert sexually was both titillating and scandalous, two things he distinctly remembered being prominent in most of Francis's conversations about his friends. For his part, Matthew could not remember ever taking part in such a crude activity, but he couldn't deny that he was excited as he'd never been before about sex. The prospect of succumbing willingly, of being subdued _un_ willingly through this hunt, had him struggling to run with a hard erection straining his trousers. Not an easy thing to do.

A low laugh behind him. The footsteps chasing him accelerated just the faintest bit.

A wrong turn led him to a door, which opened to stairs, with led him up to a small landing that opened onto the roof. No good. He doubled back, and turned a second corner on the third floor as Gilbert was closing in. He had a brief glimpse of the whitish hair and a predatory smile, before he found himself tripping down a dark, narrow staircase no doubt used by the servants. This took him to the first floor.

There was a closed door to his left as soon as he exited the stairway. He put his hand on the knob, about to enter.

"Dieter, _mein lieb_! _Ich kommen_!"

Wrong door. There were footsteps on the stairway behind him now, slow and deliberate, and assured of success. Matthew found a determination to win mixed with his arousal and desire to be caught, and spun in search of escape.

Hall, sitting room, den, hall again, ball room, wash room, another hall, kitchen… _a door_.

Gilbert appeared in the kitchen doorway just as Matthew was rounding the large wooden table. The Prussian jumped right up onto the table in an incredible display of agility. A startled cry of fright and shock left Matthew as he clawed at the bolt locking the door. Gilbert jumped down, lunged at him, and the bolt slid free. Matthew slipped outside the door as a hand closed on his arm. His sleeve tore at the shoulder seam, but he was free. He was free and running full tilt around the back end of the house, aiming for the open acres of the estate.

-oOo-

The wind blew a swirling eddy of autumn leaves around him as he dug in and pumped his arms. He was not an athletically inclined individual, nor was he competitive, hence his abstinence from sports through much of his life. His dress pants were not conducive to running, and he wasn't familiar with the estate grounds. These things all conspired against him; he was out of breath and in pain ten minutes into the chase. Worse, he only barely saved himself from running into the dark water of the lake. He swerved at the last minute and came face to face with Gilbert running in a swift, even stride, arms moving smoothly, and closing in on him.

He couldn't help it. He screamed.

Still, he was no quitter. He turned and ran blindly in an effort to put distance between himself and Gilbert.

Looking back on it, he supposed he was destined to fail. Quite apart from his secret desire to be caught, he'd simply never been called upon to do anything so strenuous as run for his life. He slipped and slid in the grass, fell, lost a shoe when his foot caught in a rabbit hole, lost his glasses when he tripped over a tree root, and ripped his pants horribly when he somehow ran into a bush. And all the while he could hear the steady rhythm of Gilbert's running footsteps and timed breathing. He himself was wheezing loud enough to be heard a mile away, and had a stitch that kept his hand pressed to his side.

He came to an apple orchard.

By now he was lurching along, weaving drunkenly from side to side, but pressing on anyway. He risked a glance behind himself, sure that Gilbert was right on top of him by now.

The Prussian was nowhere in sight.

-oOo-

Matthew stopped running to lean against a tree and couldn't stop his sigh of relief. When he could manage it, he looked around carefully, squinting at all the shadows in his vicinity. He neither saw, nor heard anything, though he turned in a complete circle. Not bothering to analyze this miracle (and blissfully ignorant of hunting tactics), he leaned against his tree once more, and breathed deeply several times. His heartbeat slowly calmed from its mad patter.

He was sweating, he realized. In lifting his arm to wipe the moisture from his brow, he saw his right sleeve completely gone, and his arm bare. A glance down the front of his body showed him to be a sorry sight indeed. A more bedraggled creature he'd never come across. He chuckled wryly at the picture he presented.

A breeze blew then. He lifted his face to let it cool his cheeks and found Gilbert standing no more than a yard away.  
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Running was pointless, but he ran anyway. He was soon caught, managed to free himself briefly, ran no more than a dozen feet, and was finally tackled to the ground. They rolled painfully over a few fallen apples, before coming to rest against one of the trees. At this collision, the bole of the tree shuddered and more fruit fell on them.

This was full, brazen physical contact, something Matthew yielded to at once despite the chase he'd led the older man. Gilbert's arms had come around him as they rolled and Matthew was forcibly made aware of how stunningly powerful Gilbert was; Gilbert had taken a moment to get his bearings, but he stood up now and carried Matthew easily a short distance to a small, wooden gazebo. Once there, he set him on his feet and stood back to strip.

-oOo-

Matthew was, quite simply, agog. His eyes bulged at seeing Gilbert disrobe outdoors, of all places, instead of in the privacy of his bedroom, as was proper. Then the thought that he would be expected to shed his clothing as well hit him, followed by the knowledge of what they would be doing _outside_ , and his hand went to his mouth.

But then Gilbert dropped his shorts.

The peek Matthew had of a long, heavy, swinging _thing_ was brief. Gilbert walked right up to him, grabbed his hair, and tugged him into a tight, confining embrace. He gazed down sternly into the frightened violet eyes. "Have you been caught unfairly?" he asked in a gruff voice.

The words had the sound of a ritual to Matthew's ears. The hand was painful in his hair, but he hastened to reply lest it tighten further. "N-no."

"Were you pursued by unfair means?"

"No."

"Then I, Gilbert Beilschmidt of Prussia, lay claim to you, Matthew Williams of Canada." Gilbert waited.

Matthew blinked in confusion, his eyes beginning to water from the grip in his hair…and then understanding came. He wet his lips. "I-I Matthew Williams of Canada, submit to you, Gilbert Beilschmidt of Prussia."

Gilbert gave the tiniest nod of approval. An equally minute smile softened his expression. The hand he had in Matthew's hair loosened and smoothed over the blond strands, before pulling the younger man's head firmly inward.  
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 _The man can kiss_ , Matthew thought fleetingly. A welcome surprise, given the primitiveness of the hunt and Gilbert's towering aggression. He yielded to it willingly, his hands going to the back of Gilbert's neck to bring them closer together. He felt his shirt being unbuttoned and removed. His undershirt was ripped down the center of his back, and dropped aside. His pants were undone, unzipped, and pushed down his hips with his boxers, all while the kiss continued and deepened. He toed off his one remaining shoe, and stood in his socks and sock suspenders.

The wind was cold. Gilbert was hot.

More than that, he was a veritable furnace of heat. Matthew tried to touch as much of the hot flesh as he could with his own body, gasping sharply at the delicious feel of the scarred skin. He rubbed his face along Gilbert's wonderfully smooth, yet firm cheeks, rubbed his chest on Gilbert's, pulled the other man close so that their stomachs pressed against each other. Gilbert's cock hung heavily against the tops of Matthew's thighs, and this too was a source of heat. Matthew lowered a hand to heft it, and found that his hand was filled completely by the meaty circumference.

Gilbert made a sound low in his throat at feeling himself handled. He wanted to feel the tight walls of Matthew's body strangling his cock, but made himself wait. He pulled back from the kiss to ask, "Have you any stipulations?"

Matthew's eyes were hazy, his face slack and wanton with desire. His hand rhythmically closed and opened on Gilbert's hardness. "Such as?"

"Anything you won't allow."

Matthew's brow furrowed in slow thought. Unconsciously, he swayed forward, wanting that knowledgeable mouth on his again. "No…you may do whatever you wish with me. I'm yours."

Their eyes met for a moment. The statement had not been made lightly, no matter the distraction of desire sizzling between them, and Gilbert knew this. The look of humble awe in his red eyes suggested that more than a body was being given here. He bowed his head in acknowledgement. Thereafter, his touch held more deference, more deliberation; he was aware of the gift he was being given.

He took his time. The kisses he and Matthew shared were hot enough to burn. Their breath steamed in the air, yet neither were cold. A light sheen of passion-induced sweat coated them. Gilbert let his mouth travel all around Matthew's, around his lips, over his nose, across his cheeks, along his jaw, and round back to his neck. He had Matthew neatly turned around so that the smaller man's back was to his front. He kissed behind the blond's ears, then the back of his neck again, making his leisurely way down the man's spine. He left kisses at measured intervals, gradually kneeling and grasping the slim hips, until the twin mounds of Matthew's smooth ass presented themselves. He let his thumbs run over the blemish-free skin appreciatively. "Bend over."

Matthew bent, putting his hands on one of the wooden benches built into the gazebo. He felt Gilbert's hand press against his inner thigh and obligingly widened his stance. He was just turning his head to see if Gilbert would dare to kiss him on his derriere when he felt a gust of warm breath, followed by a fiery tongue passing over his anus.

He yelped, tried to straighten, but felt a firm hand press his back forward again. The tongue was made flat and broad, before laving decisively over his pucker once more. Gilbert dipped his head lower, tonguing the pink nutsac hanging below the perineum and anus. He flicked this pouch of flesh with his tongue, making the back beneath his hand shudder slightly, before latching on to the vein running the short length of the perineum. He sucked strongly, making Matthew's back arch on a squeal, then dove in and fastened his mouth to the winking hole before his face. " _Gilbert!_ " The back humped upward strongly, quivered beneath Gilbert's steadying hand, then relaxed into a shameless arch of pleasure. " _Oooohhhh…_ " Matthew moaned.

Gilbert hummed richly on the flesh he was sucking, causing the other man to push backward in a quest for more. Satisfied now that Matthew would succumb to his ministrations, Gilbert moved his hand to grasp the flexing hips and hold them still. He opened his mouth wider.

Flaming tendrils of nerve-wracking pleasure zigzagged over Matthew's body. He threw his head back, breathless, knees weak, as the tongue made a quick foray inside him. It licked, swirled, pushed in farther, and then was withdrawn. He remembered Francis mentioning this forbidden delight at some point in the past, just as he remembered his own shocked reaction, but this… A deep grunt for more left him as he arched harder, pressing his ass toward that tantalizing mouth. Gilbert switched to teasing kisses around his begging hole, and Matthew grew frustrated enough to reach behind him and press Gilbert's face directly between his cheeks. He squeezed his ass cheeks on Gilbert's face, and pulled the gray head into himself harder, hanging on to a fistful of the sweaty hair. "Oh…yes…like that, just like that," he panted when Gilbert granted him the suction he wanted. "Don't…oh, don't stop… God!"

Gilbert held him spread wide open. He approved of Matthew's submission to pleasure. It meant there would be no hesitation, no hindrance to the heights either of them could reach together. He waited until Matthew's breath was ragged and uneven before sucking two fingers and slipping them past the well-lubricated ring of muscles. There was no resistance on Matthew's part, but the flesh was obviously not used to being probed. That would change, if Gilbert had anything to do with it. Matthew was his and would be probed often.

Matthew tolerated the intrusion admirably, even going so far as to allow three fingers. Gilbert eased these in and out slowly, twisting and curving them on occasion to prepare Matthew adequately to receive him. Matthew clamped down on the digits, released, squeezed again in active participation. When the muscles were relaxed and receptive, Gilbert leaned forward to kiss the trembling flesh of one butt cheek before grasping Matthew's thigh close to his face. He introduced a fourth finger. "Easy," he soothed at the low grunt of pain "It's necessary." He didn't linger, but saw to it that the hole he planned to fill with his need was suitably prepared. The shudders that wracked the slim body in response to his calloused fingers pushed him past his limits of control. His prey was ready and ripe for the plucking. Even so, he _would_ sample all that Matthew had to offer.

He let Matthew straighten and turn around. This presented Gilbert with the swollen, turgid length of the man's weeping cock. Looking up at Matthew's face, he found the violet eyes dark and glazed. The cheeks were pink with passion and self-consciousness, but Matthew licked his lips of saliva. He thrust his hips slightly at Gilbert in silent invitation. After thumbing the slit several times to spread the moisture, and thus season the meat, Gilbert accepted.

The sounds, the guttural cries of enjoyment Matthew voiced at Gilbert sliding his mouth down the entire length of his cock were quite a surprise. To look at him, one would think the Canadian took his enjoyment with the same composure he displayed with everything else, but no. Matthew was that rare breed who was a gentleman of impeccable deportment and manners, but who nevertheless knew when and how to indulge his pleasure.

Gilbert felt himself skate dangerously close to his own climax at feeling the salty juices leak over his tongue. He had to close his eyes and just breathe a moment. He'd wanted to have the man down his throat from the moment they'd driven away from the meeting. He reached between his legs now to choke back his own heavy precum. He kept his fist clenched around his cock as he struck up his slow bobbing once more.

He loved cock. Gilbert had had his fair share of women, but he plain loved the firm, velvety feel of a man's cock in his mouth. He salivated profusely now, swallowed, and relished the way the large vein on the underside of Matthew's piece pulsed in response against his tongue. He let his teeth graze lightly as he drew back slowly, sucked the head hard for a moment, then eased back down. His free hand throttled the base of Matthew's cock, twisting and rubbing in counterpoint to his sucking. Matthew bucked into his mouth, sighed, grabbed Gilbert's hair… all actions that Gilbert liked.

At length, he guided Matthew to sit in his lap facing him. He encouraged the pale, slender hands to settle around his own straining cock, and bit his lips as his young companion showed that he could do a competent job of giving pleasure as well as receiving it. Matthew used both hands in contradictory motions to twist and slide up the distended length of Gilbert's manhood. Sometimes he rolled the palm of his hand over the wet, bulbous head, only to lick his palm free of the clear fluid, and begin again. He was surprisingly unreserved about it, pumping furiously for several strokes before slowing down again. The wet _fwapping_ sound was aided by the generous amounts of saliva Matthew used to ease the process. Gilbert was reduced to moaning in his own language and cursing in English, urging Matthew to go harder, and faster, and ever harder between his clenched teeth. Not even when he shot all over them both did he allow Matthew to stop, but urged the blond to torture him with continued strokes. He softened slightly in the aftermath, but Matthew soon had him as hard as steel again.

They took a few moments to recover.

Finally, Gilbert had Matthew rise up on his knees. He positioned his cock beneath him, then guided the younger man to move downward slowly. The breaching process was always the hardest part whenever Gilbert took lovers. Predictably, Matthew stiffened and winced.

"Gilbert…no, wait…"

"Relax. Just keep yourself relaxed and let me do the work," he hissed. He paused with his hands on Matthew's hips, then pressed downward slightly again.

"Oh!" Then, "No, I can't, it's too b-"

"Trust me, you can….just-"

"Ahhh! Ssssssss…oh! OHH! OOOOOHH!"

" _There_ we go," Gilbert sighed. The sphincter was safely gotten past. He had to wince himself as Matthew finally, slowly, painfully slid down his length. They sat that way, both of them stiff, as they gave their bodies time to adjust. He held the shivering Matthew in his arms, and rested his head against the blond one. "The pain will pass."

Matthew focused on the callused hands rubbing up and down his back, and not on the fact that he was currently being split in two. He didn't think the pain would pass completely, and was perilously close to getting up. The only thing that kept him in place was the thought of how painful moving would be. He remained still, his cock now wilted in deference to the enormous one buried so deeply in his guts. He breathed through the worst of it. When the sharpness of the pain had dulled to a throb, he let himself relax completely. His body molded and conformed to the contours of Gilbert's chest and he laid his head on the older man's shoulder.

Gilbert had been waiting for this sign. Gently, carefully, he settled his hands around Matthew's hips again and lifted him. Matthew gasped and cried out, but Gilbert didn't stop. He lifted and brought Matthew's body down again, and again, working slowly, but persistently until the juices he was leaking into the tight, hot depths were adequately spread. The quality of Matthew's pained cries changed, and Gilbert himself hummed in pleasure. The _friction_ , dear God. It sapped them both of strength. "Ride me, Matthew."

The whispered command set the tone for what followed. A dark descent into the illicit union of men, the scent of power, a taste of submission.

Matthew attempted to obey the command, but so catastrophic was the pleasure that he shamed himself by climaxing and melting completely in weakness.

It was Gilbert, immensely strong, implacable Gilbert, who moved his hips up and down as if Matthew weighed no more than a child. He twisted the hips one way going up, the other way going down, working slowly the entire time. He circled the hips on his rock hard cock, making Matthew keen loud enough to rival the wind as he climaxed again, so soon after the first one. Twist and circle, up and down, over and over, until some measure of strength returned to the sobbing Canadian, and he assisted the movements. There could be no speed, not with the tight fit of Gilbert's body in Matthew's, but the rise and fall motion was smooth now at least, and more certain. Matthew's eyes fluttered as if he were near a faint, but he held to Gilbert's muscular shoulders, just as Gilbert had both arms wrapped tightly around Matthew's torso.

They loved. It was slow, and long, and so sinfully pleasurable as to invite insanity, but it was the beginning, the birth of something neither had ever known. They rode the surging waves of their wildfire passion in helplessness and breathless desire. Their entire lives spent in disconnection with everyone around them. Now joined, fused with the missing half of their souls. The rough and gruff soldier fit the quiet and refined gentleman perfectly. A lifetime spent waiting for each other. The wait now over.

They knew this, and clutched harder at each other, alive with euphoria at love found, at the seamless way their hearts united.

Matthew grasped Gilbert's cheeks, staring into the dark eyes, feeling the man's deep reach into his soul, even as Gilbert's body plunged just as deeply into him elsewhere. The wind gusted around them, just as their breath gusted with equal force in and out of them. They were wed then and there, in that moment, more completely than words could convey, or than any ceremony could achieve. Their eyes were wide with wonder and a little fear, but they didn't look away. Not once during their union. They held fast, though their hearts roared in their chests, and held each other.

Safe harbor had been reached for Gilbert, and Matthew was cherished at last.

"Don't let this end," Matthew gasped near the end. "Don't let me go, ever."

"Not as long as I have breath," Gilbert swore. " _Matthew_ …my heart. My own."


End file.
